Apology
by Saturnian Sorceress
Summary: Oneshot. After nearly killing him in "Who can you trust?" Lindsay decides that Trent deserves an apology.


_Trent_

_Tre-nt._

_Treenntt._

_T-r-e-n-t._

_His name is Trent._

_Not Taylor. Not Tyler. Not Todd. Trent._

Lindsay recited the mantra diligently as she trudged through the woods towards the medical tent, blue eyes ever so carefully watching the ground so she didn't trip in the dark. She pulled her light jacket tighter around her body as a particularly strong gust of wind blew and her thoughts turned to the reason for her top-secret night mission. Trent. Poor, poor, sickly Trent.

An immense wave of guilt washed over the shapely blonde. She honestly hadn't meant to hurt the sensitive musician. She had focused all of her concentration on carefully cutting up the deadly Japanese blowfish, but her best hadn't been enough; it hadn't even been close. It wasn't her fault biology wasn't her forte or that the surfer-girl seemed to be an expert chef, she just wished Trent hadn't had to pay for her mistake.

Lindsay figured at the least she owed Trent an apology; and to get his name right.

She stopped in front of what the show was trying to pass off as a medical tent and was surprised that it hadn't collapsed on itself already. Poking her head in through the opening, and cringing as the scratchy material came in contact with her neck, Lindsay examined the scene before her.

The room was practically empty. There was a small chipped-up wooden desk and matching chair on the left side, papers and pens haphazardly strewn across it. A regular sized camping lamp sat on the desk providing the dim, and only, light in the room. Pushed against the right side of the tent was the only other thing in the room: a dinky, dirty cot with a lumpy looking blanket on it.

Lindsay entered the tent the rest of the way and tip-toed towards the now quivering blanket. She hovered over the itchy looking blanket for a moment before slowly reaching out and pulling it down; the blonde involuntarily took a step back at what she saw.

Trent's usual bed-head styled hair was dull and plastered to his sweaty forehead. His skin was sallow and his bloodshot eyes were emphasized by the deep, dark bags beneath them. He looked skinnier, and she could see the outline of his ribs from the t-shirt sticking to his chest. Dark purple bruises were already visible where the IVs were attached to his arms pumping in valuable, lifesaving fluids.

He looked like hell…and it was all her fault.

Their eyes met briefly before Trent's slid closed again. Lindsay was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to leave and let him rest, he obviously needed it. She could talk to him later…

"I thought you were Chef. I was about to rollover and play dead."

Trent's voice was little more than a raspy whisper.

"Hi Trent. How are you?"

Lindsay could've smacked herself (although she did mentally pat herself on the back at getting his name correct). Could she have asked a more stupid question? To his credit Trent gave a brief laugh although it quickly turned into a hacking cough. When it finally subsided a small smirk curled his lips.

"I'm still kicking. How're you doing?"

Lindsay stood shocked for a minute; she hadn't expected him to ask her questions, no matter how simple they were. She had planned out exactly how her apology was going to sound, but when she saw the look of pure concern on _his_ face for _her_ she lost all of her composure.

"Oh Trent I'm just terrible! I'm so, so sorry!"

She dropped to her knees and threw the top half of her body over his, muffling her sobs and apology in his chest.

"I didn't mean to hurt you! I'd take your place right now if I could! If I could go back in time I'd try really hard to actually pass biology!"

Lindsay continued to cry and stumble through apology after apology for several minutes while Trent soothingly rubbed her back. When she seemed all cried out Trent tugged on a strand of her corn colored hair and, when he was sure he had her attention, motioned for her to take a seat in the middle on the side of the cot.

"So," Trent grinned rakishly, "how're you doing?"

Lindsay laughed and wiped a few loose tears from her cheeks.

"Would you be better if I forgave you?"

At her slight almost shy nod Trent continued.

"Listen Linds, I'd forgive you if you had done something that required an apology, but you didn't. You just made a mistake that's all."

"How could you say that? I nearly killed you." Lindsay's voice broke as the word 'killed' slipped past her gloss covered lips.

"Honestly, if I'd have had to do it you'd be lying here instead of me."

"Psh, I doubt that," Lindsay scoffed. "I'm sure you aced biology."

Trent rolled his eyes.

"Let's just say science wasn't exactly my best subject either."

Trent sighed when he realized Lindsay didn't seem to believe their small talk or the point he was trying to make. Fatigue was beginning to set in and he knew he was going slip into a deep sleep soon if he didn't fight to stay awake and finish their conversation.

"Can you do me a favor Linds?"

Her eyes widened in excitement and she sat up a little straighter.

"Of course! Anything, just name it!"

"Ok if you want to help me and make me feel better," he took a deep breath, "please, please, please just forget the whole thing happened. I forgive you, it's water under the bridge. Let's just move on."

She paused, trying to take it in.

"If that will really make you happier…"

"It will."

"I can't promise forgetting completely, but I can try."

"That's all I ask," Trent replied, eyes drooping sleepily. Noticing his fight to stay awake, Lindsay stood up.

"I'm going to go and let you sleep. I'm glad we had this talk."

Lindsay leaned forward and pulled the blanket back up to his chin. Smiling slightly, she brushed some of Trent's damp bangs from his forehead before placing a light kiss on it.

"I'll be back tomorrow, same time, to check on you."

"Mmm. Make sure Chris or Chef doesn't catch you," he mumbled.

"'Kay," Lindsay smiled sadly. "I am sorry Trent."

"I know," he whispered. "When we get off the show you can make it up to me by buying me dinner. How's sushi sound?"

Lindsay snorted before replying, "If that's what you want. After this you'll have a stomach of steel, so it'll be all good."

"It's a date then."

"I'll mark my calendar. Good night Trent."

"G'night Linds."

Satisfied with the turnout of her top-secret mission, Lindsay trekked back to the cabins, a weight lifted off of her slight shoulders. She couldn't wait to borrow a laptop and look up all of the different ways she could prepare sushi.


End file.
